


Losing My Religion

by SuperWhoLockianFangirl



Series: Just One Yesterday [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Supernatural, Under the Red Hood, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: And Dick Grayson tries way too hard, Blood, Dean Has a Sexuality Crisis, Dean Winchester is bad at feelings, Discussion of the morality of murder, Flashbacks, Gratuitous Swearing, Identity Reveal, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Seriously the word Fuck is used way too often, Teen Romance, The Author Regrets Nothing, Vampires, Violence, because Dean Winchester is so far in the closet he managed to find Narnia, but Jason basically just sticks his fingers in his ears and ignores Sam, well I say discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4825250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperWhoLockianFangirl/pseuds/SuperWhoLockianFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1994 the Winchesters are attending Gotham Academy, where Dean meets Dick Grayson and absolutely does not fall in love, seriously. Things end messily and Dean refuses to look back once their time in Gotham is over.</p><p>Twelve years later, a vampire nest brings the boys back to the city. Familiar faces and painful memories are there to greet them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this story is the result of me spending far too much time working on a huge Batfamily fic--that is still nowhere near ready to be posted--and me watching "Under the Red Hood" far too many times. Basically, I came to the conclusion that Dean and Jason would be bestest friends forever and Dean and Dick totally had a Thing.
> 
> This is me telling both of those stories at once because why the fuck not?
> 
> Fair warning, I have no idea what I'm doing here. 
> 
> Any thoughts or critiques you guys have would be awesome. I'm hoping this will be a three part story, but at the moment I'm not sure. I never meant for it to be more than two or three thousand words so it's already gotten out of control, really.
> 
> Happy reading!

**_“You’re overwhelmed; Freeze was underwhelmed. Why isn’t anyone just_ whelmed? _”  
–_ Dick Grayson _, Young Justice_ – _“_ Independence Day”**

* * *

 

Dean felt tension rising in his chest the moment they drove over the bridge and past the huge “Welcome to Gotham City!” sign. Sam didn’t seem to notice his brother’s anxiousness, sitting in the passenger seat, bent over a map and several computer print-outs. He’d been absorbed in his studies for nearly an hour by that point and Dean was using the time to talk himself out of worrying over nothing and acting like some worthless wimp.

“Man, it’s weird being back here again, isn’t it?” Sam suddenly spoke up. Dean absolutely did not almost squeak like a five-year-old little girl.

“Huh?” he said, sliding his eyes toward Sam for a moment before turning his attention back to the road and very pointedly not thinking about the last time he had been in Gotham City.

“It’s just weird to be here again,” Sam said. “I mean, God, the last time we were in Gotham was… Fuck, it’s been over ten years. We were just kids when Dad came here.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, nodding distractedly. “Worst three months of my life.”

Sam frowned. “Really? ‘Cause you seemed to like it when we were here. I did. I mean, we actually settled down here for three _months_.”

“Yeah,” Dean said again. Then, because he realized he wasn’t really adding much to the conversation, “Only in a place like Gotham-fucking-City could it take Dad three months to track a werewolf. Too much crazy shit happens in this town.” He glanced sideways at Sam. “You know, with all the crazy that goes on in this place, this might not even be our kind of weird…”

Sam raised a brow and waved one of the computer print-outs. “Come on, Dean. Five bloodless bodies with torn out throats? You telling me that doesn’t sound like an active vamp nest to you?”

“Maybe…” Dean said, trying his best not to sound reluctant. “But, I mean… We’ve only come up against, like, two nests in our whole lives. Even if this is a nest, maybe we should leave it to someone with more experience killing vamps. Ellen probably knows someone—other than Gordon, I mean.”

“Dude, what is with you?” Sam demanded. “Since when do you not want to hunt? That’s _all_ you’ve wanted to do since Dad died and now suddenly you wanna bail?”

“It’s not—I’m not saying we _bail._ I’m just sayin’, maybe we should hand this one over to someone with more experience and find another job somewhere else.” Dean hoped his voice didn’t sound too strained when he replied.

Sam made a face at him. “Vamps aren’t that complicated,” he said. “A little dead man’s blood, a machete to the neck and it’s light’s out. Pretty straight forward.”

Dean nodded. “Right, right. Fine.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” Dean snapped. “Jesus. I was just thinking out loud, that’s all.” Sam was eyeing him skeptically, but Dean ignored him and stared straight ahead. Sam was right. Vamps were simple targets. Not altogether _easy_ to take down, but he’d been itching for a good hunt since about ten seconds before they’d wrapped up their last one so it wasn’t like that was a problem.

Besides, he was just being paranoid. Like Sam said, they hadn’t been to Gotham in a decade. It wasn’t like _he_ could still be here, right? And even if he was, Dean doubted he’d be slumming it where he and Sam were going to be staying. Gotham was a huge city. No way would their paths cross even if he _was_ still there and not jet-setting around the world with his trust fund and his private plane.

 _Get a grip, Winchester. You’re acting like some whiny chick._ Dean mentally shook himself and tried very hard to stay focused on the road and the frankly _insane_ traffic and definitely was not thinking about a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed boy who’d royally fucked up his entire life more than ten years ago.

 

* * *

_“Come on, Dean!” Sam was running ahead of his older brother, his young face eager and ridiculously excited. Dean rolled his eyes and tugged again at the stupid tie on the uniform. “Hurry up! We’re gonna be late!”_

_“And?” Dean demanded, still dragging his feet as Sam stopped at the gates. He frowned at him._

_“Aren’t you excited?” Sam demanded. “We’re going to a_ real _private school! And Dad didn’t even have to pay for it or anything!”_

_They’d arrived in Gotham and enrolled in school just in time for the Wayne Foundation Scholarship to pick ten random kids from “underprivileged” homes to attend Gotham Academy. Sam had just barely met the deadline for the application essay and—of course—was accepted. Once the Foundation realized Sam also had an older brother, Dean suddenly found himself with his own scholarship to the Academy and Sam was so excited that Dean didn’t have the heart to turn it down. Especially not when their dad told him it would help him keep an eye on Sam while he was working his current job._

_“Oh yeah, I’m thrilled, Sammy,” Dean muttered. “Nothing makes me happier than getting to spend eight hours a day with a bunch of stuck-up rich brats, wearing this stupid fucking monkey suit, at a_ school. _Greatest thing to ever happen to me.”_

_Sam huffed dramatically. “It’s not that bad, Dean,” he said. “C’mon. It could be fun.”_

_“It’s school,” Dean said, “not an amusement park. There’s no fun in ‘school’.”_

_Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just come on before we’re late.”_

_Dean grudgingly followed his little brother into the school. At least it was the first day of classes so, for once, they weren’t starting at some awkward time in the middle of the school year. The early September weather was nice too, surprisingly. Unfamiliar faces blurred as they hurried by, knowing exactly where they were going._

_Dean had been to a lot of schools in his short fifteen years of life—gotten kicked out of a couple too. Some were big, some were small, but none of them were like Gotham Academy with its huge brick buildings and freshly cut lawn and clean paint jobs and everything looked all shiny and new. The advantages of money. There were no leather jackets or ripped jeans or scuffed shoes. Nothing but a sea of pristine blazers and ties and pretty little black skirts. It was surreal._

_“Jesus, I feel like I just stepped into some Pod People hideaway,” Dean muttered to himself._

_“Don’t worry,” a voice behind him suddenly spoke, nearly making him jump. “You get used to it after a while. First day?”_

_Spinning around Dean saw a boy, probably his age. He was shorter than Dean by a few inches and his dark hair was wind-blown and messy, bangs hanging just a bit too long over ridiculously bright blue eyes. He grinned cockily at him and held out a hand. Dean stared at it for a moment before slowly taking it._

_“Yeah, uh… Dean Winchester.”_

_“Dick Grayson,” the boy said. “C’mon. I’ll show you around before the bell rings.”_

* * *

Dean was bone-tired by the time they checked into their motel room that night. He tossed his duffle on the bed and closed his eyes, cracking his neck and groaning. He and Sam had visited the morgue and looked at the latest body—there was no doubt that it was a vamp kill after seeing the damage done to the neck. Then they’d scoured every inch of the previous crime scenes and found nothing. It wasn’t surprising, given the nature of Gotham City and the fact that they were less than two blocks away from Crime Alley. There was a lot of criminal activity—the perfect place for a vampire nest to hide their kills.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Sam announced. “We can try talking to the neighbors tomorrow morning and start looking into warehouses near the docks while it’s daylight.”

Dean made a face. “Warehouses are where the mob guys and drug dealers do business,” he said. “I doubt a nest would be hiding out there.”

“Worth a look,” Sam said, already pulling off his shirt. “Besides, the next best place is the sewers and I’d rather save that for last.”

Dean’s face, somehow, went even sourer and he nodded. “Yeah, right. Listen, it’s still pretty early. I saw a bar a few blocks away. I’m gonna go grab some drinks, unwind. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Sam hesitated at the bathroom door. “You sure? I could go with you—”

“Nah, you’re tired. I just need to relax, that’s all. Stiff from all that driving.”

Sam had that look on his face, that worried-anxious-uncertain-I’m-about-to-lecture-you-on-your-life-choices look. Dean was so not in the mood to hear any of Sam’s stupid worries about him drinking or his grief.

“I’ll be back,” he said, snatching his jacket. He shut the door before Sam could say anything else.

Things were still tense between them since their dad had died. They’d both cooled down some after the incident with Gordon Walker, but Sam was still too quiet and weird and guilty and Dean was still… whatever the hell he was. He didn’t know. Everything in him was all tangled up and messy—the pain, the anger, the grief, the confusion. He had too much to worry about to deal with sorting out his own emotions and he didn’t need Sam and his weird, impromptu therapy sessions trying to drag answers out of him. A few shots of whiskey and he’d be fine.

 

* * *

 

The bar was loud and seedy, clearly a place where the not-so-upstanding citizens of Gotham came to drown their sorrows. Dean felt right at home there in the dim lights and the buzz of drunken voices and the smell of cheap cigarettes. He made his way to a stained and worn bar and pounded on the wood to get the bartender’s attention.

After getting his whiskey he pulled a ragged looking barstool closer and tossed the shot back, relishing the familiar burn as it spread through his veins. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling some of the tightness leave his muscles. He tossed down another shot, and then another. The last few months and all of their tension melted away for a moment and his mind was blissful white noise.

And then a voice to his left pulled him right back into reality. “Tough day?”

He glanced over at the guy—a few years younger than he was, maybe Sam’s age. Dark hair, distant green eyes. There was a look there that Dean had seen a million times before, every morning in the mirror. Something cold and hard utterly _tired_. It stirred something painful in Dean’s gut and he looked away, contemplating a fourth shot of whiskey.

“Tough _year_ ,” he said.

“Heh,” the guy snorted. “I know that feeling.”

Dean grunted in a noncommittal way and turned back to his whiskey, thinking the guy would leave him alone to his private little grief-drowning session. Instead, the guy pulled his seat a bit closer to Dean and cocked his head to the side.

“You look kind of familiar,” the guy said. “Have we met before?”

“Doubt it,” Dean said gruffly. “Last time I was in Gotham was twelve years ago.”

“Huh,” the guy sounded vaguely confused and was still staring at him. Dean could feel his eyes burning into the side of his face and turned back to stare at him.

“Was there something you needed?” he asked sharply.

“No, sorry,” the guy turned away and ordered his own drink, but kept his seat next to Dean’s. “I’ll leave you alone.”

Dean didn’t respond, just stayed focused on his alcohol and ignoring the empty pit in his stomach. He could feel the guy side-eyeing him the whole night, but a couple more shots and that was the last thing on his mind.

 

* * *

 

He managed to not get too terribly drunk, but drunk enough. He left the bar with only slightly blurred vision and a barely noticeable stagger to his steps. He thanked his many years of drowning his problems with alcohol for the high liquor tolerance. He still remembered the motel room number and could read the street signs well enough to find his way home.

Street lights were flickering and a few were busted entirely, making Dean walk a bit slower just to make sure he was going the right way. Gotham was a confusing city if you didn’t know where you were so he tried to pay attention to where his feet were going, but he was focusing so hard on making sure he was headed in the right direction that he almost missed the near-silent footsteps behind him. Almost.

The faint splatter of shoes against wet concrete was what finally alerted Dean to his apparent stalker and moments later a stray cat, feral and mangy, yowled and darted from behind a dumpster, giving Dean an opening to spin—somewhat sloppily—on his heel and pull out a knife, slashing at whoever was behind him.

It was a woman, short hair dyed a vibrant blue. Her face was littered in piercings that glittered in the terrible yellow streetlights and her right arm was covered almost entirely with a huge tattoo of a peacock, jewel-like feathers dark and faded. She was small, but didn’t seem too concerned with his knife. She hissed at him, baring a set of shark-like teeth.

Just Dean’s luck. Show up in Gotham to hunt vampires and spend all day looking and coming up empty, but run into one when he’s half-drunk and alone. And machete-less to boot.

“Fuck,” he swore, taking half a step back and keeping the knife out in front of him. He might not be able to kill her with the small blade, but he could damn sure do some damage. She kept coming forward and Dean swung the blade, nicking her a few times. All it seemed to do was piss her off.

She had a wild, almost feral look in her eyes and Dean was reminded of that stray cat. Her face was pale and totally bloodless and there was a bit of a double image of her coming into his vision. Shit, he did not have the time to deal with this right now.

“Come on, sweetheart, you don’t wanna do this,” he said. “I’m, like, sixty percent alcohol right now. Not gonna taste too good.”

She ran her tongue obscenely over her teeth and grinned at him, but didn’t seem to have even heard him. She advanced toward him with her eyes locked on his jugular.

Shit. Not what he wanted. He knew Sam would never let him hear the end of it if he got taken down by some tiny little vamp chick. He made a desperate lunge forward with the knife, hoping to at least ram in into her heart and slow her down some so he could get away.

He miscalculated a bit and missed her heart by a few inches, instead managing only to bury the blade into her shoulder. She barely even stumbled and just blinked at him before pushing him back with enough force to make him land right on his ass. Fuck. He was so off his game. This was embarrassing.

He fumbled around and snatched something heavy—a broken piece of plywood that had probably once been boarding up a window somewhere. As she made her attack he swung the board and knock her right in the jaw. There was a sickening crack and her head spun nearly all the way around. Feeling a bit better about himself, he kicked her legs out from under her while she was distracted and immediately straddled her before she could jump up again.

She kicked and hissed at him, but apparently she hadn’t fed in a while because she was only managed to _almost_ buck him off. Dean grinned and yanked the knife from her shoulder.

“I’ll just take this back,” he said, smirking down at her. She grunted but made no other sign that she was in pain. Her jaw sat a bit crookedly and Dean figured he’d probably broken it with the board—good. Stop her from feeding for a while at least. He pressed the knife hard against her neck and leaned down, pressing all of his weight on her to keep her pinned.

“Now, I’m gonna kill you, but first… I know you can’t be making all these kills by yourself. So you’re gonna tell me where your nest is. If you talk now I’ll make it quick and painless. If not… well…”

She hissed and spat in his face. “Fuck you,” she snarled.

Dean wiped his face with a scowl. “Slow and painful it is.”

He flexed his fingers around her neck—the flesh was cold and disturbingly corpse-like. Pushing the knife down harder he watched it slice through the skin. Tiny dribbles of blood welled up, nowhere near the stream he’d expected, and she hissed and clawed at him, but that was it. Dean frowned. She hadn’t fed in a while. The last kill was from just a few days ago—obviously not her.

“Just tell me where the nest is,” he said. “I’ll end it.”

She laughed, a hard and bitter sound that grated on his nerves and reminded him too much of his own laugh. “Bite me,” she said, twisted her neck and letting the knife sink a bit further into her skin.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “No thanks,” he said. “I think I’ll settle for a slow decapitation. This knife’s so small; it’s gonna take me a while anyway.”

Her lips curled back from her teeth in a terrible grimace and her crazed eyes met his, dark and empty. “Do it,” she said, and for a moment Dean could almost swear it sounded like she was begging. “Do it.”

He frowned. “Not until you tell me where the nest is,”

She huffed and squeezed her eyes shut, her scrabbling hands suddenly coming up to grab his arms. She yanked them toward her, making the knife go even deeper. A miniscule amount of blood flowed. It must have been ages since she’d fed. Jesus. No way was she the vamp responsible for those recent kills.

“If you’re gonna kill me, kill me. Otherwise stop wasting my time,” she snapped, her eyes flying open. They were still flat and dark, like a shark, but there was something in them. Desperation, maybe. Dean leaned up a bit.

“Do you even know where they are?”

She frowned. “Where who are?”

“The other vampires,” Dean said, still holding the knife, but easing it off of her throat and studying her with narrow eyes. His mind flashed back to Lenore and her desperate, instinctual snapping before she managed to stop herself. To her little nest of vegetarian vampires with a conscience. For a moment he saw her face in place of this feral, angry girl and he hesitated.

Her brows drew together, corpse-like face pulling into an odd expression.

“Others?”

“This city’s gotta have a few at least. Probably room enough for a decent sized nest. You never saw anyone else?”

Her jaw tightened, the bones still cracking together and not quite healed. “I never even saw the fucker who did this to me.”

Dean pressed his lips together and sat all the way up—still holding the knife, but only watching her warily. “Have you fed?”

She opened her mouth, snapped it shut and opened it again. Her eyes were wide and pained. “It hurts…” she whispered. “I keep trying not to, but it hurts _so much_. I can hear it and smell it and it’s everywhere and I—” she choked on her words, her eyes going flat again.

“Shit,” Dean scowled. He’d been so looking forward to killing _something._ But he could hear Sam’s annoying voice in the back of his mind telling him that he’d be committing murder if he did—that it wasn’t right to kill some girl who was fighting what had happened to her with everything in her. She never asked for this. Dean could at least give her a chance.

Damn Sam and his stupid empathy.

“Fuck. Have you… I mean, have you tried… feeding on animals?”

She laughed and it made her teeth stand out oddly against her mouth. “What animals? We’re in Gotham City, dipshit. Nothing here but strays and rats.”

“Better than nothing,” Dean said.

She shook her head. “Once. A few weeks ago… It hurt so much and I was just… curled up in an alley, trying to sleep or think about anything but the endless fucking pain. There was a dog…” She grimaced at the memory and shut her eyes. Dean felt something clench in his gut. Fucking empathy. He’s gonna kill Sam for making him feel bad for monsters.

“Look, uh… do you have a place to stay? Somewhere to lay low? Me and my brother… we deal with this sort of shit all the time. We might be able to help…”

“She’s staying with me,” a vaguely familiar voice suddenly rang out from the mouth of the alley and Dean jerked his head up, knife clutched tighter in his hand. It was the man from the bar, earlier. His eyes were somehow greener in the darkness and he was holding a gun in his hand, face set in a hard expression.

“You alright, Shan?” he asked, directing his question to the girl beneath Dean. The girl—Shan, apparently—nodded.

“Fine, Jay,” she said. “I—I was comin’ to find you, but I lost it for a few minutes…” Her eyes traveled up to Dean, clearer than they’d been since she’d first attacked him. “Lucky him, this guy seems to know something about… whatever the fuck happened to me.”

The guy—Jay—didn’t lower his gun. His eyes stayed locked on Dean. “Well that’s nice. Now get off of her before I shoot you in the face. She’s not a threat to you; she’s just a mixed up kid.”

Dean made a face, but held his hands up and slowly stood. He kept the knife in his grasp, not daring to let go of it. “Not a threat my ass. She almost killed me.”

The girl was scrambling to sit up as Dean backed a couple of steps away from her. “But I didn’t!” she insisted. “I didn’t. I’m sorry, really, it just… it hurt so much and you were there and I could _smell_ you.” Her eyes glazed over for a moment and her voice faded a bit. “You smelled so good…”

Jay moved closer to her, kneeling down to help her to her feet. He kept the gun trained on Dean. “It’s okay,” he said. “You didn’t mean it. We’ll figure this out, okay? You’ll be alright.”

“Uh… Not to rain on your parade or anything, but, no, dude. Vamps don’t work that way. She’s got to feed, and soon, or she’s gonna lose it. You don’t want to witness that fallout, trust me.”

“I don’t wanna kill people!” Shan wailed, her lips quivering.

“Animals are pretty decent substitute…” Dean said. “At least… from what I’ve learned recently. Or—or… Hell, I don’t know. Rob the Red Cross or something.” He suddenly wished he knew more about vampires right then. Could human blood that was already taken satisfy them? Maybe it would at least get her healthier than the animals would…

“How do you know so much about this?” Jay demanded, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Like I was telling you friend here, it’s what I do for a living. Sort of a… family business, really. I hunt monsters. You’ve got a nest here in Gotham somewhere and me and my brother are tracking it. I thought she was part of it, but… From the looks of it she’s just another victim.”

Jay had pushed her behind him protectively, but the gun finally lowered a bit. “There’s more than one of ‘em?”

“Most likely,” Dean said. “They tend to live in nests, at least from what we know.”

“Fuck,” Jay shook his head, lowering the gun completely. Dean slowly put his arms down, still gripping the knife like a lifeline. “Like my job wasn’t hard enough already, now we’ve got fucking _vampires_ in Gotham.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean shrugged. “Look, me and my brother can help. At least we might be able to help you find something for her to eat before she snaps…”

Jay glanced back at the girl, who was frowning at them both.

“There’s no cure?” she asked. “I’m stuck like this?”

Something in Dean twisted and he swallowed roughly. “’Fraid so,” he said. “But, look. It doesn’t have to be bad. You can—you can manage it. I’ve met vamps who did it. Recently in fact. You don’t have to be a killer.”

Jay seemed to be thinking about that. His face was set in a hard, calculating look. Finally, he nodded. “Alright,” he said. “Okay, yeah. I don’t say this a lot, but I think I’m kinda in over my head with this shit. I could use the help.”

Dean nearly sagged in relief and smiled.

“Good. Awesome. We can—could we maybe head back to my motel room? Talk there?”

Jay’s lips quirked a bit. “Lead the way,” he said, motioning for Dean to go ahead. Dean nodded and started walking, Jay and Shan right on his heels.

“Didn’t catch your name earlier,” Jay said suddenly.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m Dean,” he said.

“Jason,” Jay said. “And this is Shannon,” he pointed to the girl who was trailing behind them, arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes were wild and empty again, but it seemed like she had a lid on the hunger for the moment.

Dean smiled faintly. “Nice to meet you, Jason. C’mon. My brother’s gonna _love_ this.”

 

* * *

 

 _Dick was ridiculously friendly. He chattered away while Dean tried to keep up—and tried to not think about how fucking_ cute _his inane rambling was. He had two classes before lunch with him and Dick spent the entire time whispering helpful hints and cracking lame jokes. For probably the first time in his entire life Dean felt like he had an actual friend._

_Once lunch rolled around, Dean made his way to the cafeteria. The underclassmen had an earlier lunch hour so Sam was nowhere to be seen, which meant Dean had no idea where to sit since he usually tried to stick close to his little brother—for Sam’s sake, of course._

_“Winchester! Over here!” Dick’s voice rang out from across the room and he spotted the boy sitting at a table with two girls—a pretty redhead with an amused smile on her face and a blonde who was eyeing him curiously. Trying to hide the relief from his face, Dean made his way over to them and sat down, smiling awkwardly._

_“Dean!” Dick grinned at him, a bright and fucking_ adorable _smile that made Dean’s stomach flutter a little and what the hell was that about, anyway?_

_“Babs, Artemis, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Barbara Gordon and Artemis Crock.” He nodded to the girls—the redhead was apparently Babs and the blonde was Artemis._

_“Welcome to the Reject Table,” the blonde said, smiling a bit._

_“Reject Table?” Dean raised a brow._

_“We’re all scholarship kids too,” Barbara said. “Well, except Dick, but he hangs out with us poor kids to make us feel better.”_

_Dick rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Everyone thinks I’m a bigger charity case than you. And anyway, shut up. This is totally the Cool Kids Table._

_“Wish someone had told the Cool Kids then,” Artemis said._

_Dean frowned. At least he wasn’t totally alone in the world of “underprivileged” children attending Gotham Academy. “Charity case?” he asked, glancing at Dick curiously._

_“I’m a circus freak. My parents were acrobats before…” Dick said, trailing off a bit. “I was, uh… adopted. A few years ago.”_

_“By Bruce Wayne,” Artemis said. “So Dick’s mega-rich by association.”_

_“Oh,” Dean said, as if the name Bruce Wayne meant anything to him. Although—Wayne… maybe he was the guy responsible for that scholarship. He tried to remember what Sam had told him about it, but he hadn’t really been interested at the time. Dick just smiled at him and quickly explained._

_“Bruce is a billionaire. It’s the only reason I’m here. Before this I never even went to an actual school; my parents homeschooled me. So basically half the kids here just think I’m some charity case Bruce took on to make himself look good.”_

_“Oh,” Dean said again, this time frowning. “…Are you?”_

_“God, no,” Dick said, surprisingly unoffended. “Bruce is a good guy.”_

_“Oh. Well… good.” Dean felt awkward. He wondered if maybe he should share how he’d gotten into this ridiculous school. He’d never had friends before; he always sort of drifted on the outside of the social groups in his other schools. Unless flirting with cheerleaders counted as socializing._

_“I, uh… I really only got in because of my little brother. Sam. He, uh… he applied for that scholarship and got in and then they found out he had an older brother and… Yeah.” He shrugged._

_“I think I met your brother this morning,” Barbara said. “Scrawny kid, long hair? Kind of cute.” She smiled. “He was in my gym class.”_

_“Yeah, that’s him,” Dean nodded. He felt more comfortable talking about Sam than himself. “Though he might die if he hears a girl called him ‘cute’.” He smirked. “Can’t wait to tell him.”_

_“Aw, don’t embarrass him,” Barbara said. “He seems sweet.”_

_Dean snorted. “That’s what everyone who doesn’t live with him says.”_

_“Typical sibling talk,” Barbara said. “I bet you’d do anything for him.”_

_“Yeah…” Dean frowned thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess I would…” He looked between the three other teens at the table. “Any of you got siblings?”_

_“No,” Dick said, frowning a bit. “I kinda wish I did, but I don’t think I’d even know what to do with a sibling.”_

_“Me either,” Barbara said. “I mean, I sort of feel like Dick’s an annoying little brother somethings…” She smirked at him. “But, yeah, only child. Siblings seems so… alien to me.”_

_Artemis squirmed a bit and looked down. “I, uh… Yeah, me either,” she said. “Not… not really anyway. I had an older sister, but… She… She kind of isn’t really around much.” She shrugged._

_Dick quickly took mercy on his friend, changing the subject. “So, Dean… Why’d you move to Gotham anyway?”_

_“Oh. Um. My dad… his job… he travels a lot. We pretty much go wherever the work takes him.” Dean had told that lie a thousand times before—and it wasn’t even really a lie—but he’d never felt so_ uncomfortable _about saying it before._

_“How do you ever get used to that? Moving around so much… doesn’t that mess up your schooling?” Barbara asked._

_Dean snorted. “You sound like Sam. Yeah, uh… No. I mean, we’ve been moving around since I was four. I’ve never really known anything different. I wouldn’t know how to react if we actually settled down somewhere.” He’d get cagey, he knew it. He didn’t like not moving. Being in one place too long made his skin itch._

_“How long do you think you’ll be here then?” Dick asked. Maybe Dean was imagining it, but Dick sounded a bit… disappointed at the idea that Dean was eventually going to go away._

_He shrugged. “Dunno. We never really know for sure. Depends on how long the job keeps Dad here. Could be a couple of weeks or a few months. Once we spent almost a whole semester in Chicago…” Worst fucking time of his life._

_“Oh,” Dick definitely seemed a bit crestfallen. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to enjoy your company while you’re here then.” And Dean was definitely imagining the amused looks on Barbara and Artemis’s faces._

* * *

It was nearly two in the morning when Dean and his two new tagalongs arrived at the motel. Sam was asleep and Dean tried to be as quiet as possible as he unlocked the door, not even turning on the light; but they had both always been light sleepers and Sam turned over almost as soon as the door opened. He squinted through the darkness, one hand slipping under his pillow to the gun he kept there.

“Dean?” his voice was groggy and heavy with sleep. “That you?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, clearing his throat and frowning. He flipped the light switch and Sam hissed, covering his eyes for a moment, gun hanging limply from his hand. “Sorry. Tried not to wake you.” 

“What the hell, man?” Sam grumbled. “Thought you’d be back hours ago.”

“Got a little… uh, distracted,” Dean said, stepping away from the door and motioning for Jason and Shannon to enter. Jason did so purposefully, Shannon trailing behind him with distant, anxious eyes. “I ran into a slight complication after I left the bar.”

Sam sat up quickly, the blankets pooling around his waist as he stared at their guests. “What kind of complication?” he demanded. “Who’re your new friends?” His eyes lingered on Shannon and Dean knew he could tell there was something off about her. Her fangs had receded but she was still deathly pale and her eyes shifted around restlessly.

“This is Jason and Shannon,” Dean said. “Shannon was… is… a, uh… A victim of the nest operating here.”

“A victim…” Sam said slowly. “…they turned her?”

“Looks like it. Turned her and left her. Maybe it was an accident or something, I dunno. But she hasn’t fed on anything but a stray dog, apparently. Look, I know this is kind of… weird, but I said we could help.” 

“Really?” Sam raised a brow. “ _You_ wanna help a vampire? Are you feeling okay, Dean?” 

“Fuck you,” Dean scowled. “Yes, I wanna help. She didn’t ask for this.”

“Alright,” Sam went with it a lot easier than Dean had expected. Then again, he’d always had an easier time seeing the shades of grey that Dean felt pretty sure weren’t even there most of the time. “So what’s the plan?”

“Thing is,” Dean said, “Gotham doesn’t exactly have a lot of wild animals for her chose from like that vampire chick—”

“Lenore,”

“Like Lenore,” Dean nodded. “And—and from what you said the cows they were killing weren’t exactly, um… _satisfying_. I mean, we could raid the local zoo, let her take out a bear or something, but that might draw some unwanted attention.”

“Right,” Sam nodded, sliding out of bed and sitting the gun on the table beside it. He rifled around until he found an over-shirt and threw it on over the pale shirt he’d been sleeping in. “So how’re we gonna handle this? Raid the Red Cross?” he asked, bending down to grab the jeans he’d thrown off before his shower.

Dean cleared his throat and grimaced. “Well… basically, yeah.” 

Sam made a face. “Seriously? Dean, dude, come on. People need that blood!” 

“She’s people!” Dean protested. “I mean, fanged and crazy at the moment, but still. People. Isn’t that what you said about Lenore?” 

Sam glanced over at Shannon, who was hovering around Jason like a lost puppy. He sighed and scrubbed at his face. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just… I mean, that blood is used to save lives, Dean.”

“It’d still be saving lives,” Jason said. “Just not in the way they intended. Besides, how much can she possibly need? A bag or two every few weeks?”

Frowning, Sam turned his full attention to Jason. “And you’d be willing to do that? Regularly steal blood whenever she needs it?” 

“Whatever she needs,” Jason insisted. 

“Why? What is she, your sister or something?”

Jason scowled. “No. She’s just a kid who needed help. I found her huddled up in an alley—right after that incident with the dog. I couldn’t just leave her. I promised her I’d help.” He turned to Shannon and his expression softened a bit. “And I keep my promises. She doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Shannon smiled weakly back at him. Her wide, wild eyes turned to Sam pleadingly. “I don’t want to hurt anybody,” she insisted. “I just want it to stop hurting.”

Dean knew the second she gave him that wounded look it was over. Sam caved, his shoulders sagging, and he nodded.

“Okay. Don’t worry. We’ll help. We’ll do whatever we can to keep you from hurting people,” he said. For a moment Dean was almost jealous of his brother’s soft, gentle tones. How could he just look at a vampire and be so damn _comforting._ He eyed her more critically and then turned back to Dean.

“She looks like she’s about to lose it right now,” Sam said. “How long ago was this dog incident?”

“A few weeks,” Jason said. “Almost a month.”

“And that’s the only time you fed?” Sam asked her. She nodded jerkily. “Shit. She needs to feed, like, immediately. I don’t know how often vamps need blood, but she’s way past due.” 

“So, what, are we doing this tonight then?” Jason asked.

“The sooner the better,” Sam said. “She needs blood.”

“Alright then, let’s go,” Jason said, already impatiently heading to the door.

“Hang on,” Sam frowned. “Shannon can’t go with us. All that blood might set her off. She needs to stay here.” 

“No,” Jason frowned. “I don’t want to leave her here alone.” 

“Then someone can stay with her,” Sam said. “It’s not like stealing blood should be a three man job anyway.”

“Well thanks for volunteering, Sammy,” Dean said, smirking a bit. “We’ll be back soon.”

“Wait, Dean, that’s not what I meant!”

“Call if you need anything,” Dean was already halfway out the door and Jason was right on his heels. He turned to face Shannon one last time and smiled at her.

“We’ll be back,” he promised her. “And we’ll get you through this. Don’t worry.”

 

* * *

 

The flashlight bobbed in Jason’s hands as he juggled it and two bags of blood. The beam hit Dean in the face and he scowled, snatching the light away and shoving the cooler they’d ‘borrowed’ down on the countertop.

“Watch where you’re aiming that thing!” Dean hissed.

Jason frowned, placing the bags into the cooler along with the others they had already gathered. “Sorry. Not used to having a partner for this sort of thing. I usually work alone.”

Dean watched the younger man curiously as he fiddled with the lid of the small cooler. “This sort of thing? So, what, you’ve done this before?” 

“Not this specifically,” Jason said. “But yeah, breaking and entering isn’t exactly _new_ to me. I grew up in the Narrows. Criminal activity is second-nature.” 

“What, like, you’re a gangbanger or something? Is that where you got the gun?”

Jason snorted and rolled his eyes. “Gangbanger. Wow. Been a while since I heard that word.”

“Not answering my question,”

“No,” Jason said shortly. “I’m not a ‘gangbanger’.”

“Drug dealer? Mob enforcer? What?”

“I’m not a goddamn criminal!” Jason snapped. 

“A cop with loose morals then? ‘Cause I’m having some trouble figuring out where a stand-up citizen gets B-and-E skills.” 

“And you’re such a shining example of innocence, right? You’re the one who suggested this in the first place.” 

Dean shrugged. “My line of works takes me a little outside of the law,” he said. 

“Yeah, well, mine too.” 

“And what line of work is that?” 

Jason just glared at him. Dean sighed and lifted the cooler again—it was surprisingly heavy with all the blood they’d gathered inside. He grunted, turning to leave.

“Come on, dude. Share with the class, huh? You know what I do for a living.” 

Jason was quiet behind him as they made their way out of the small building. It had been laughably easy to break into—apparently no one really worried about guarding blood, and this was Gotham City. 

“What I do isn’t so different,” Jason said finally. It took Dean a moment to realize he was answering his earlier question.

“Gonna elaborate on that or do you expect me to just divine the answer from cryptic responses?”

“I hunt monsters too,” Jason said. “Just… the ones I hunt are of a more… human variety.” 

Dean nearly dropped the cooler and turned around to face his companion. “Wait. Are we talking murder here?”

“It’s not murder,” Jason said firmly. “I kill people who hurt innocents.” His eyes were cold and angry. Dean got the strangest feeling that Jason had given this little speech before. “People who deserve it. There are a lot of people like that in Gotham City.” 

Dean pressed his lips together tightly. He could just imagine what Sam would say if he were here. _“Murder is murder. You can’t just kill_ people. _”_ Trouble was, Dean wasn’t sure it was always so cut-and-dry. He’d definitely met some people who deserved to die, and painfully. Gordon Walker immediately sprung to mind, but there were others. Still. Dean didn’t make it a habit to go looking for those people. 

“Sounds like murder to me,” he said.

“Do you know how many criminals get arrested in Gotham City, go to prison, get released and go right back to hurting people once their free?” Jason demanded. “Taking them off the streets and putting them in prison is like putting a Band-Aid on a severed limb. It doesn’t fix the problem at all.”

Dean grunted at that. There was a certain amount of logic to Jason’s argument. “Still, is killing them really the only option you have?”

“It’s the _best_ option, most of the time,” Jason said. “You can’t wipe out crime by tossing a few people in jail. You’ve got to be more proactive.”

“Proactive…” Dean mused. “Huh. Can’t say I disagree entirely, but, uh… Well, if my brother were here he’d probably be giving you some self-righteous speech about the sanctity of human life.”

“Sounds familiar,” Jason muttered darkly.

Dean glanced around the empty streets. “Look, let’s just get this back to Shannon and get her settled in. We can talk about the morality of murder later.”

 

* * *

 

Getting Shannon settled, it turned out, was easier than Dean had expected. Jason had already gotten her a tiny little apartment less than a block away from his own place—it was just a matter of getting some blood in her and taking her back home. Dean was just relieved that his idea to use the bagged blood had worked. The only real complaint Shannon seemed to have was that the texture was all wrong since the blood was cold. Sam was very specific in his warnings to her, telling her to make sure she kept the blood cold even if it did taste weird.

“If you let the blood sit out and start to rot it could probably have the same effect on you as dead man’s blood—it’d be like ingesting poison. I don’t know for sure if it’d do you any real harm, but better not to tempt fate, alright?” Sam had said.

After leaving Shannon, looking much healthier and less crazy-eyed, it was almost five in the morning.

“So what now?” Sam asked, squinting up at the still dark sky.

“I’ll help Shan get back on her feet,” Jason said. “Find her a job, get her settled into a routine. Make sure she stays well fed and doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Sam insisted firmly. “After tonight she’s your responsibility. If she kills anyone, that’s on you.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yes, _Mom_. I’m not an idiot. I know what I’m doing.” Sam seemed a bit skeptical. He didn’t seem to like Jason much. Dean remembered he hadn’t like Gordon much either. He wondered if Sam just had some instinct about men who were dangerous. Not that Dean thought Jason was anything like Gordon. Jason hadn’t, as far as Dean knew, killed his own sister or anything.

“We’ve still got to find that vamp nest,” Dean said.

Sam nodded and glanced at his watch. “I’d like to catch a couple hours of sleep before we head out on that…”

“I wanna help,” Jason said immediately. “These fuckers are hurting people in _my_ city. Who knows how many other kids like Shannon were ruined by this.”

“I don’t think that’s such a—”

“Awesome! The more the merrier!” Dean cut his brother off before he could tell Jason no. He knew Sam was leery of the guy, and he’d be even more uncomfortable once he learned that Jason apparently killed people for a living, but Dean liked him. Something about him just reminded Dean of himself—something angry and determined and broken in his eyes that made Dean feel like he’d met a kindred spirit. He hadn’t felt like that, truly, in a very long time.

Sam made a face. “Dean, are you sure?”

“Sure, yeah. Jason knows the city. Hell, maybe we can even talk to Shannon again once she’s a little less freaked out and see if she knows anything.” 

“But he doesn’t know the first thing about vampires,” Sam argued. 

“He is, however,” Jason said, “standing right here and can hear every word you’re saying.” 

Sam frowned. “Sorry. It’s just… we usually work alone and… not with civilians.”

Jason raised a brow. “Who says I’m a civilian. I know a thing or two about taking down bad guys. I’ve got an arsenal of lethal weapons and I know Gotham, especially this area of Gotham, better than either of you could hope to.” 

Sam’s lips pressed together in that suspicious way Dean recognized, but he didn’t argue with Jason. He nodded stiffly. 

“Okay, fine. I guess it couldn’t hurt… But we’re the ones with experience taking out monsters. If you’re gonna help you’ve got to listen to everything we say.”

Jason didn’t seem too happy about that, but he nodded. “Sure, sure.” 

“Alright,” Sam sighed. “I guess… We’ll meet at the motel in a few hours then?”

“Perfect!” Jason was grinning again. It was an oddly twisted looking smile. “Gives me some time to do a little digging. I’ve got some business to take care of. Family stuff. See you guys soon.”

 

* * *

 

_Dean wasn’t entirely sure how it happened. They had a project due in World History on Mesopotamia and Dick had immediately offered to be his partner. At the moment it had left Dean with an odd warm feeling that he didn’t care to examine and he’d said yes just to watch that bright grin spread across the other boy’s face._

_But then they’d ended up staying after school to work on their project in the library. Dean was already feeling antsy. Sam was supposed to be digging up info on the wolf’s latest kills for their dad and Dean was supposed to be helping him, but when Dean said he had promised to work on a school project Sam had just shrugged and told him that school should come first. Dean had no idea where his brother got a stupid idea like that._

_And now he was sitting at a tiny work table, print outs spread around in disarray, trying to figure out why that weird tingly feeling was fluttering in his stomach again._

_“Dean? You in there?”_

_Dean blinked, Dick’s face swimming into his line of sight. “Huh? Oh, uh… Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking about some things I’ve got to take care of after we’re done here.”_

_“Oh,” Dick frowned. Dean had an odd sinking feeling in his gut whenever Dick frowned. The other boy was always smiling and laughing and joking. The frown just sat wrong on his face._

_“But, yeah. Mesopotamia.”_

_“Right,” Dick nodded, glancing down at their gathered papers. His fingers tapped against the table for a moment and then he looked right into Dean’s eyes. It made Dean’s stomach tingly again. “Look… could I… Could we talk for a second?”_

_Dean frowned. “Uh… sure, I guess…”_

_“It’s just… You’re kind of infuriating, you know that?”_

_“I am?”_

_“I don’t know how to read you, Dean. I’m usually pretty good at reading people—have to be, honestly—but you just… Nothing. I mean, sometimes I think maybe you like me, other times I feel like you’re living in some other world and don’t even notice the people around you and—_ ”

 _“I do like you!” Dean cut his friend off, frowning. Dick was the first friend, the first_ real _friend that he’d ever had. How could he think that Dean didn’t like him? Dean spent half his time worrying he’d do something to reveal how fucked up he was and Dick would never talk to him again._

_Dick blinked, blue eyes going wide with what Dean could only describe as hope._

_“You do?”_

_“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Dean insisted. “Hell, before I met you I would’ve just blown this project off.”_

_Dick smiled and the world felt a little more secure for it. “Good. I was worried. It’s just… My life’s kind of crazy, you know? What with—well, everything. But yeah. A lot of the time I get just ridiculously overwhelmed with it all and everything’s just all blurred together and happening too fast, you know?”_

_Dean nodded, though he wasn’t really quite sure he knew what Dick meant. What in his ridiculously charmed life could be overwhelming?_

_“And then the rest of the time… I dunno, things aren’t exciting enough, you know? I get bored. So I’m constantly going between wanting everything to just slow down and stop for, like, five minutes, or wishing something was happening so I don’t want to eat my foot to stave off boredom. The world’s too much or not enough.” He bit his lip and tilted his head and Dean thought it was kind of adorable and quickly stamped that thought down because where had that come from?_

_“But… But when you’re around… things don’t seem to be too much or not enough. I’m… just pretty perfectly whelmed.”_

_Dean frowned. “Whelmed?”_

_Dick smiled, his eyes glittering. “Yeah, you know… I’m usually overwhelmed or underwhelmed, but… you make everything seem balanced and it just kind of fits and I like you and you’re kind of a huge dork, which I love because you like to pretend you’re not and you’ve got the most gorgeous fucking mouth and I just wanna…”_

_Before Dean realized what had happened Dick’s lips were on his. For a second, they stayed there and Dean had a chance to think about how soft his lips were and how good his mouth felt against his. And then his brain kicked into panic mode and he jumped up, eyes wide._

_“Shit, shit, no…” Dean scrambled, grabbing his bag and shoving things into it. “I gotta go. I—I was supposed to meet my brother. I—uh… I’ll… yeah…” And he was gone before Dick could say another word to him, his heart hammering away in his chest and his lips still tingly. His stomach twisted happily when he replayed the scene in his mind, but holy shit was he not going to think about this._

_He stopped for a moment to catch his breath and then made his way to school gates. With any luck he could make it back to their little apartment before dark and Sam would have something for him to do to distract himself from… whatever had just happened._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos! I hope you guys enjoy the second part of this little experiment!

**_“No chick-flick moments,”  
—_ Dean Winchester, _Supernatural **–**  _“Pilot”**

* * *

 

_Sam’s head jerked up as Dean slammed his way into their tiny fifth floor apartment. His hands were shaking a bit and his eyes were wild._

_“You alright?” Sam asked as Dean made his way to the fridge and pulled one of their dad’s beers out of the door. “…I don’t think we’re supposed to be—”_

_“Shut up!” Dean snapped, popping the top off the bottle and taking several deep gulps. Sam kept his eyes on his brother the whole time, turning his chair to face him. Dean’s hands finally stopped shaking and he sat the bottle down on the counter._

_“Are you alright?” Sam asked again. “I thought you were staying late at the school for that project?”_

_“I’m fine,” Dean said. “We finished up early.”_

_Sam made a face. “You’re not acting fine,” he said.  “You’re all pale and… crazy-eyed.”_

_“I am not,” Dean muttered, trying to force his expression into something more neutral. He sighed and flopped down into the chair opposite Sam, grabbing at one of the books lying open on the table. “What are you doing?” he asked._

_Sam stared at him a moment longer before finally answering. “Research for Dad. And math homework.”_

_Dean snorted. “At the same time? Come on, take a break, Nerd. There’s probably cartoons or something on TV.”_

_Rolling his eyes, Sam snatched the book from Dean’s hands. “Don’t have time. I’ve got a test next week and I need to study, and Dad needs this intel. You ever tried to tell Dad no?” Dean eyed him and sighed, thumping his hands on the table._

_“Alright, fine. Whatever.” He pushed himself up from the table and grabbed the beer from the counter. “_ I’m _gonna go watch cartoons. Have fun with your books.” He ruffled Sam’s hair as he passed and Sam grunted, swatting at him. He laughed and took another drink. It felt familiar, it felt normal. Nothing like Dick’s wide, terribly sincere eyes and his mouth all soft and pressing on his._

_He shook his head and scowled, taking another long drink and settling down on the rickety old couch to watch mindless cartoons. Normal. Safe. Familiar._

* * *

 

“So, uh… before Jason gets here there’s something I should probably tell you…” Dean tried to start the conversation as casually as possible. He knew Sam wouldn’t like that Jason said he killed people for a living, but Dean figured it was best to tell him and get it over with—just rip the bandage off, so to speak. He was keeping enough from Sam right now; he’d find out about Jason sooner rather than later anyway and Dean didn’t need that fallout.

Sam looked up from where he was stuffing the machetes into a duffle bag. “…What?” he asked warily.

“Look, uh… Last night, we were talking and… Y’know how he said he’s not exactly inexperienced taking out bad guys? Well, uh… He was telling me about it.”

Sam zipped up the bag and sat down on the bed, narrowing his eyes. “And? He a cop or something?”

“Not exactly…” Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, he said he pretty much does what we do… just… with criminals, not monsters.”

“Criminals…” Sam frowned. “What—wait… you’re saying he’s like… some kind of vigilante?”

Dean laughed, shrugging a bit. “Surprised? Gotham’s apparently as much a breeding ground for vigilantes as it is psychos.”

Sam made a face. “Some of the vigilantes aren’t so different from the psychos,” he said. “Jason one of those?”

“He might have mentioned something about killing people,” Dean said. “But look, before you go insane from that stick up your ass, hear me out. He’s not some mass murdering psycho, alright? He’s just killing the bad guys.”

Sam already had that look on his face—wide-eyed and tight-lipped and about half a second from exploding. “Yeah, so says the guy who kills people! Dean! Come on, we can’t work with some murdering lunatic!”

“Oh come on,” Dean said. “He’s not a lunatic. He saved that girl’s life. He didn’t kill either of us. He’s a good guy, Sammy. He’s one of us.”

“You barely know him! And he said he kills people! How much can you trust someone like that?!”

“ _We_ kill people!”

“Not _humans_!”

Dean scoffed. “Please. Like that makes a difference. Like we wouldn’t cross that line if it came down to it. Look, I trust him alright?”

Sam shook his head. “Why? _How_? How can you trust him? You don’t trust anyone! You barely trust me.”

“That’s not true!” Dean insisted. “Look. I dunno. I just… I just trust him. I got this feeling, alright? It’s—it’s something in his eyes.”

Some of the fire seemed to have died out of Sam’s gaze. He stood up and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Dean, we can’t—why didn’t you tell me this last night?”

“Because I knew how you’d react,” Dean said. “And I didn’t feel like arguing about it last night. Look, I’m not saying we take the guy on the road with us or anything, but we could seriously use the help. I don’t want to spend months combing this city for a nest. He knows Gotham. Just… stow your self-righteous, bleeding heart crap for a little while, huh? Just long enough to let us take care of this nest and then we’re gone and we don’t have to deal with Jason anymore.”

Sam was tightlipped. He scowled and paced around restlessly for a moment. “Fine. Okay, yeah. He can help us for this job. But we call the shots and he’s not killing anyone except vampires while he works with us. I don’t want any more blood on our hands.”

Dean grinned. “Awesome! Knew you’d come around.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just help me finish packing the gear.”

 

* * *

 

“No, there aren’t any vampires in the warehouses at the docks,” Jason said. “Trust me; I do a lot of business in that area. Falcone’s set up shop out there in the last few months, after I managed to push Black Mask’s men out. The rest of the place changes hands a lot. The Joker used ‘em for a while, Scarecrow and his guys, hell, that Penguin nutjob even used ‘em… All the Mob guys shuffle around out there when they meet… It’d be a bad place for a vamp nest to set up shop.”

Sam’s face was pinched as he stared down at the crime scene photos from the most recent kill. They’d gotten a copy of the files from the police earlier that morning and Sam had been pouring over them for the last hour.

“Maybe,” he said. “But it can’t hurt to take a look. All the crime out there might be a good distraction…”

“No, I’m telling you, you’re wasting your time,” Jason said.

“I think he’s right,” Dean said. Sam glared at him.

“Of course you do,” he muttered.

Jason frowned. “I know this city; I know the Narrows even better. Trust me on this: I’d have noticed a bunch of bloodsucking monsters hanging out in my territory.”

Sam glanced back down at the photo of the girl and sighed. “Fine. Where should we be looking?”

Jason looked back down at the map they had spread out over the rest of the table. “You said they’d be out of the way, right? Somewhere abandoned, most likely?”

“Right, yeah,” Dean nodded. “Some of ‘em might have jobs, but from what we know, they mostly avoid humans except when they’re killing them. Keep to themselves. They don’t like to leave a paper trail and they have to move around to keep from being detected.”

“Semi-nomadic,” Sam said. “They stay as long as they can—a few years, maybe a decade or two if they’re lucky. Then they pack up and go somewhere else. I’m wagering they could probably hide in Gotham for at least a decade before needing to move on.”

Jason scowled. “Yeah, not while I’m around.” His eyes scanned the map. “Sewers are a good place to hole up. Lots of criminals use them, but they’re a maze. Killer Croc hid out for _months_ down there once, the Joker’s used the pipes a few times. Hell even—” he cut himself short and cleared his throat. “But yeah. That’s a place to start. It’ll take a while to cover that much ground though…”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “We figured the sewers might be a good second choice…”

Jason tilted his head. “Crime Alley’s always a good starting point, too,” he said. “Plenty of abandoned homes and apartments. No one asks questions out there. Lots of places for a group of vampires to hide out. Addicts and homeless people hide out there all the time.” 

“Alright! Let’s start there,” Dean said. “If we come up dry, we’ll hit the sewers.”

 

* * *

 

_Dean was halfway through his second beer—and trying to think of a way to explain them to his dad when he finally decided to come home—with the volume up on the TV as loud as he could get it without “distracting” Sam. So he didn’t hear the faint, almost timid knocks on the door at first._

_He scowled and muted the TV. “Sammy! Get the door, would ya?”_

_He heard Sam muttering under his breath about Dean being a lazy asshole, but he didn’t particularly care. At the moment all he was concerned about were the antics of_ Tom & Jerry _, and how he might be able to spin a decent story to cover for stealing Dad’s beers._

_“Is—uh, is Dean around?”_

_Shit, that was Dick’s voice, all timid and nervous. Dean’s fingers tightened around the beer and he squeezed his eyes shut._

_“Yeah, uh…” he could hear the concern and hesitation in Sam’s voice. Sam was still worried about him—kept giving him weird looks every time Dean got up to go to the kitchen. “He’s watching TV.”_

_“Can I—Can I talk to him for a second? He—we forgot to go over some stuff for our project and…”_

_Dean sat the bottle down and stood, unmuting the TV. He missed whatever else Dick was saying, but he made his way to the door and forced a smile. Dick’s eyes were wide and kind of red and Dean felt an odd surge of guilt for probably being the reason for that._

_“Oh, Dean,” Sam blinked. “Your friend wanted to talk about your project or something,” he said. He was still giving Dean that worried look and Dean might’ve been grateful for it if he didn’t wish his brother was a little less observant._

_“Yeah, uh…” he pushed past Sam and grabbed Dick by the arm, leading him through the open door. “Let’s talk in the hall, alright?”_

_Dick let Dean drag him outside and frowned a bit as Dean shut the door. Without saying a word, Dean pulled the other boy along to the empty stairwell before finally letting go of his arm._

_“Okay,” Dean said. “You wanna talk. Talk.”_

_Dean couldn’t look in his eyes. Dick’s eyes were all round and sorry and very, very blue. Ridiculously blue. Like, the kind of blue that shouldn’t exist. And why the fuck was he even thinking about that anyway?_

_“I just wanted to… to apologize,” Dick said. “I shouldn’t have—back at the library, when I kissed you. I shouldn’t have. I should’ve asked you first, made sure it was alright. Made sure you felt the same. I just… I kind of got caught up for a second. I’m sorry. Really. I get it if you never wanna talk to me again, but I’d really, really like it if you would. I don’t want us to not be friends just because I made a stupid mistake, alright? I really like you. Like, not just_ that _way. I’d still like to be your friend if you’ll let me. I understand if that’s too weird or anything, but—_ ” 

_Instead of looking at his eyes, Dean found himself staring at Dick’s mouth. At his lips and how rapidly they were moving, revealing flashes of white teeth and a tongue. His lips looked soft and Dean remembered the feeling of them against his mouth. They were shiny and wet looking from Dick nervously licking at them. For a moment he lost the words Dick was spewing forth, only catching a faint buzz in the back of his mind before he made a very, very stupid choice._

_Or rather, before his body made the choice because his mind sure as hell wasn’t alerted to the decision until it was far too late. He suddenly found himself pushing Dick back against the wall and kissing him hard on the mouth, tongue licking inside just to sate the curiosity of what the other boy_ tasted _liked._

Where the fuck was this coming from!? 

_Dean only pulled away long enough to mutter, “You talk way too much, Grayson,” before pushing forward again. Dick seemed caught off guard for all of half a second before he started kissing back. His hands were everywhere—in Dean’s hair, across his shoulders, down his back. Heat trailed where Dick touched and Dean felt dizzy and warm and—_

_And seriously, what the ever-loving-fuck was wrong with him?_

_He jerked away, panting, and swallowed around the lump in his throat._

_“I—I—_ ”

_Dick was grinning at him, that wide shit-eating grin that Dean knew too well already._

_“I knew it!” Dick said. “I knew I wasn’t wrong. You like me too!”_

_Dean scrubbed at his mouth and frowned. “What the hell gave you that impression?”_

_“Oh, don’t be an asshole, Dean. C’mon. This doesn’t have to be difficult. I like you. You like me.”_

_“I’m not… I don’t like guys,” Dean stuttered._

_Dick raised a brow. “Didn’t seem that way two second ago.”_

_“Shut up,” Dean scowled. “I didn’t mean to…” He raked his hands through his hair and over his face and across his jeans. His body was still thrumming with warmth and that weird tingly feeling. Shit, this could not be happening._

_Dick’s face softened. “Look, this doesn’t have to be anything if you don’t want it to be, Dean,” he said. “I’ll drop it right now if you want. I get it.” He was looking at him with those big, sincere blue eyes and Dean felt his knees go a little weak. Why did this guy have such a powerful effect on him?_

_“I’d really like there to be something though,” Dick said. “If… if you want there to be.”_

_Dean was having a really difficult time thinking with Dick standing there looking all freshly-kissed, his lips red and his cheeks flushed. Goddamn it, this wasn’t fair. He ran a hand through his hair again and closed his eyes._

_“Dean?” Dick asked after a moment. “You still in there?”_

_Dean cleared his throat. “We don’t tell anybody,” he said. “Not one soul. This—whatever the fuck this is—it stays between us. Got it?”_

_Dick nodded slowly, smiling a bit. “I’m good at keeping secrets,” he said._

_Dean eyed him up and down and felt his stomach quaking. God, this was the stupidest, most fucked up, weirdest thing he had ever done in his life. But damn if he didn’t want to kiss Dick Grayson until he couldn’t breathe anymore._

_Which is exactly what he endeavored to do as he pushed him back up against the wall and proceeded to kiss him like he was about to die._

* * *

 

Crime Alley was a bust. They spent hours searching abandoned apartment buildings and rundown shops. Talked to too many drug-addled street kids and got into a scuffle with one very pissed off landlord and his giant dog from Hell. But no vampires. It was getting dark by the time they returned to the motel room and Dean was getting antsy again.

“So we try the sewers,” Sam said. “Sooner the better.”

“It’s miles of shit to pick through,” Jason said. “Literally.” 

“We narrow it down,” Sam said. He grabbed a marker and moved over to the map. “Gimme those police files…” He held his hand out without looking over his shoulder and Dean sighed, grabbing the files from the bed and passing them to his brother. 

He flipped them open one by one and spent a few minutes searching the map, marking it with five little red dots. Dean moved closed and looked over Sam’s shoulder as he worked. His brother frowned and studied the dots, scattered out in a seemingly random pattern through the Narrows. After a moment he drew a red circle around the dots.

“We’ll start here. Search this area of sewer pipes first and spread out from there.” 

“That’s still at least fifteen, twenty miles of pipes,” Jason said. 

“Better than nothing,” Sam insisted. He tapped the end of the marker against one of the dots. “We’ll start from here and fan out. This was where the first body was found.” 

“That we know of,” Dean pointed out. “Who knows how long this nest has been here.” 

“It’s a place to start,” Sam said. “At least this way we aren’t totally searching blind.” 

Dean nodded, trying to hold back his groan. “Alright, yeah. I was really hoping to avoid the sewer…” He wrinkled his nose. “But I guess it’s better than sitting on our thumbs.” 

“Okay then,” Jason clapped his hands on the table. “Let’s get going.” Sam gave him a dubious look, but so far he’d managed not to be too much of a dick so Dean didn’t say anything. He grabbed their duffle bag and threw it over his shoulder. 

“First, we need to make a stop,” Dean said. “If we’re going to be fighting ‘em tonight, we’ll need some dead man’s blood. Got any idea where the closest funeral home is?”

 

* * *

 

The sewers were just as Dean had expected—dark, damp and _smelly._ Vamps sure knew how to hide in the most unsavory places. Couldn’t the monsters just once make camp at a ritzy hotel or something? Somewhere with air conditioning at least. Dean felt like he was melting and the river of literal shit they were walking by—and often through—was not helping matters. 

They tried to keep to the sides where small ledges were left for workers to get better access, but most of the time even they were at least half a foot deep in sewage, and deeper in there weren’t many walking ledges to speak of. Dean was burning his clothes when this was over, that was for sure. 

“Ugh. God, we should’ve brought face masks or something,” Dean muttered, covering his mouth. Jason laughed behind him, an edged sort of laugh.

“Wish I’d thought of it earlier, I could’ve gotten some masks from my stash,” Jason said. “I always keep a few just in case. Gotham gets a lot of poison gas and I liked to be prepared.” 

“Like that thing in the Narrows a while back?” Sam asked, glancing over his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Jason nodded, frowning. “I was just a kid back then. God, that was some terrifying shit. No one thought they’d ever save the area. It was practically condemned and so many people died…” He trailed off, his frown deepened.

“Man, I don’t know how you live in this city,” Dean said. “Half of it’s falling to pieces and the crime rate’s ridiculous.” 

“That’s _why_ I stay,” Jason insisted. “People in this city need someone. Crime isn’t going to stop itself and the police try—the honest ones anyway—but they can’t get a handle on this shit alone.” 

“So you’re idea of helping is committing murder?” Sam asked, his tone acidic. 

“Sam, c’mon—”

“No, it’s fine,” Jason said before Dean could tell his brother to lay off. “Yeah, so what? I kill people. I kill _criminals_. I take out the kind of scum that hurt innocent people. The prisons aren’t gonna reform ‘em, the cops don’t scare ‘em and Batman sure as fuck isn’t gonna do it.” His tone got harder and angrier the more he spoke. “So I do it, because it has to be done. Someone’s got to clean up this city.” 

“You don’t get to just _decide_ that someone doesn’t deserve to live,” Sam snapped. “You can’t just kill people just because it’s easier than not killing them. They’re human beings.” 

Jason scoffed. “You sound like my self-righteous dick of a mentor,” he said. “They’re scum. I’m taking out murderers and rapists and drug dealers. People who hurt other people for no other reason than because they can, and they’ll never stop. They can’t be scared into submission and even if we got them locked up—so what? They’d get out soon enough and be right back at it.” 

“There are other ways to stop people than killing them,” Sam insisted. “You don’t have to take a life to save one.” 

“That isn’t what I’m doing,” Jason said. “You can’t corner criminals and scare them straight. It doesn’t work like that. You’ve got to control them, stop them. I’m just being practical.” 

“You’re being a murderer,” Sam snapped.

“Hey, I’m with Jason on this,” Dean said. “Some people don’t deserve to live.” 

“Dean!” Sam spun to glare at his brother. “How can you say that? We’re talking about people’s lives here, human beings!” 

“And?” Dean demanded. “You’ve seen the things people are capable of, man. You know as well as I do that people can be scarier than the monsters we hunt. You tellin’ me you don’t think some of those psychos deserve a bullet between the eyes?” 

Sam gritted his teeth and started walking again. “It’s not our call to make,” he said. “We don’t get to walk around playing Judge, Jury and Executioner, Dean.”

Jason opened his mouth to say something, but Sam suddenly held up a hand and shushed him. 

“I think I heard something up ahead…” he hissed under his breath. 

“Shit,” Dean whispered. “Alright, alright. Stay quiet.” He swung the duffle around and pulled out the machete he hadn’t felt like carrying. Sam held his in hand and Jason pulled his from a holster at his thigh. They were all carrying two syringes full of dead man’s blood as well. 

Dean carefully pushed himself in front of Sam, taking lead. Sam made a face, but otherwise didn’t protest. They crept as quietly as they could through the sludge underfoot. It was thinning out a bit the further they got. Firelight flickered from an alcove ahead—a worker’s access place. Hobos probably used ‘em to get some uninterrupted sleep. Maybe that was all this was.

Maybe not.

Dean tightened his grip on the machete and peered through the darkness. He could make out shadows moving along the walls—two, three… Four or five distinct ones, he was fairly sure. He couldn’t hear voices, but he could hear the faint wet sounds of shoes sticking against the concrete. 

The closer they got the more distinct the noises became. Murmuring voices, faint laughter, the clink of beer bottles. And then Dean could actually see them—six in all, four men and two women. All pale and gathered around a small fire, drinking and grinning with their too-white teeth. Definitely vamps, apparently recently fed.

Dean held a finger up to his lips and slipped one of the syringes out of his pocket.

Time to party.

 

* * *

  

_“Happy birthday, Arty!” Dick practically sang as he plopped a little plush doll in front of Artemis’s lunch tray. Dean fought to suppress the laugh that tried to escape from his mouth at the murderous look on her face._

_“Don’t ever call me that again,” she warned Dick, only half-joking. “I will kill you if you do.” Dick just grinned at her. The blonde’s frown deepened as she picked up the doll with narrowed eyes. It was a Green Arrow toy and it looked like something that came out of a claw machine._

_She arched a brow at Dick. “Seriously, Grayson?_ Seriously _?”_

_Dick smirked at her. “What? It’s cute and a little birdie told me that you’ve got a thing for him so…” he spread his hands wide and shrugged. Artemis rolled her eyes._

_“Does this mean I should give you a Batman doll for your birthday since you’ve apparently got an epic crush on him?” she asked, her tone all weird and oddly sweet and sinister at the same time._

_Dick made a face like someone had shoved a lemon in his mouth. “Ew, gross. Don’t be disgusting, Artemis. I was kidding.”_

_Artemis smiled like a shark. “Good,” she said. Dean didn’t miss the way she tucked the little doll carefully into her bag, but figured it was best not to say anything about it given her notorious temper._

_“So,” Dick clapped his hands together. “Any plans for tonight? Birthday dinner with the family or—or anything?” Dick suddenly grimaced and shot her an apologetic look, but she didn’t seem to notice. Dean had figured out early on that Artemis didn’t have the best home life and he never asked for details; it wasn’t like his home life was entirely normal, after all._

_“Nothing special,” Artemis shrugged. “It’s just me and Mom and… well, we kinda threw out birthday celebrations as a tradition years ago.”_

_“Great!” Dick said, smiling. “That means you’re absolutely free for the Not-So-Secret-Surprise party we’re throwing for you tonight.”_

_Well. That was news to Dean._

_“We?” Artemis asked._

_“Yeah. Me, Babs and Wally…” Dick said. “Roy helped too, but don’t tell him I told you ‘cause he’s still pretending to be all Stoic and Adult.” He rolled his eyes and Dean was left floundering a bit, wondering who the hell Wally and Roy were. “Oh, and Megan and Star did most of the decorations so—brace yourself. Everyone’s gonna be there.”_

_“Everyone?” Artemis lifted her brows again and shot a not-so-subtle look to Dean who pretended not to notice. If his… totally-not-boyfriend-but-maybe-sorta-kinda-boyfriend wanted to throw a surprise party for another friend and not mention it to him at all then… well, that sort of hurt, but Dean wasn’t gonna act like it._

_Dick followed her eyes and saw the confused-shocked look on Dean’s face._

_“Oh! Oh, right, yeah, Dean is totally gonna be there too,” Dick said. “Shit. I’m sorry, Dean. I meant to tell you, really. I just got so busy with the guys and planning and… well, sorry.” He pressed his lips together in a small, apologetic little smile. “It’s just… the others are friends from outside school and you haven’t met them and they… Well. Yeah. I’m sorry.”_

_“Sorry about what?” Barbara, perfect timing as usual, showed up to break some of the nervous tension in the air._

_“Not telling Dean about my Not-Surprise Party,” Artemis said._

_“You didn’t tell him?” Babs demanded, frowning. “I thought you told him a week ago!”_

_“I didn’t even know Artemis’s birthday was today,” Dean broke in. “I mean, it’s not a big deal, really. I’ve only known you guys for a few two months. It’s fine.”_

_“It is not,” Babs said. “C’mon, Dick, what kind of guy doesn’t tell his boyfriend about a party he’s planning for a mutual friend?”_

_Dick’s face was suddenly the color of paper and Dean’s whole brain went to white noise. Dick was spluttering, turning to Dean wide eyes and a desperate sort of frown._

_“Boyfriend…” Dean managed to choke out through the lump in his throat._

_“Shit, Dean, no, I swear I didn’t—”_

_But Dean was already standing, snatching his tray with a bit too much force. “I… I’ve got to… go…” he stumbled over the words in his rush to get far away from the lunch table as fast as possible. He left the three of them sitting there with varying degrees of horror, shock and guilt on their faces._

* * *

 

It was really an unfair fight, Dean mused. Six supernaturally strong vampires against two hunters and one mercenary-slash-vigilante? The vamps didn’t stand a chance.

The adrenaline was pulsing through his veins and everything was covered in the same red haze of bloodlust that had covered most things since their dad’s death. He was only vaguely aware of Sam and Jason taking care of their own targets—and damn, Jason had some serious moves. He certainly wasn’t kidding about knowing what he was doing. He decapitated the first vamp less than sixty seconds into their ambush. Dean kind of wondered if Jason had experience with chopping off heads because that was ridiculously effortless for him.

But then he got distracted by a hissing vamp-chick and had to spend a few seconds reorienting himself in order to throw her off of him and start slicing with the machete, hoping to get close enough to drop her with the dead man’s blood he had in his pocket.

The fight lasted all of two minutes. Maybe three if Dean was feeling generous toward the vamps. He wasn’t really though, because he came away with some fun new aches, at least two cracked ribs and he was going to smell like sewer shit for probably the rest of his life. He was also covered in blood, but pretty confident in the fact that most of it was vamp blood and not his own. 

They were all panting heavily, sore and bloody and pretty well satisfied with a night of boring searching paid off in violence.

“Well,” Dean said once he finally caught his breath. “That went better than the last nest we took down.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “The last nest didn’t _need_ taking down,” he muttered. “Gordon did.” 

“And I beat the shit out of him so we’re all good,” Dean grinned a wide, toothy grin and Sam made a face at him. 

“Yeah, great. Let’s get out of here and find a shower.” Sam’s nose crinkled. “I think the smell is going to be with us for a year at this point.” 

“I’m not even sure a shower can salvage this,” Jason said. “But hey, at least the vampires are dead. One less problem for me to worry about.” 

“At least someone’s lookin’ on the bright side!” Dean said, still smiling and riding the high of the hunt. He figured he could coast on the adrenaline rush and the sated lust for violence for at least a couple of days before he needed to kill something again. If not he’d just find an excuse to hit something until they found a new job. 

“How ‘bout we grab some beers tonight to celebrate a job well done?” 

Sam wrinkled his nose. “Showers first,” he said. “Then drinks.”

 

* * *

 

After scrubbing themselves practically raw and burning their clothes, they ended up at the bar where Dean had met Jason the previous night. They actually grabbed a table this time though and Sam insisted that they eat something as well. Dean couldn’t help but agree with that—he was starving.

Dean and Jason talked weapons while Sam mostly tried not to make faces about the not-entirely-clean glasses or the sticky table or the fact that the menu didn’t have a salad on it. Jason had actually laughed when Sam complained about that—“God, you sound like my—uh, this kid I know. He’s got such a fucking stick up his ass. You two would get along great.”

Sam had scowled at Jason for a good thirty seconds after that.

But as the night wore on, his brother actually started to loosen up. Enough to debate morality with Jason without calling him an idiot at least.

“It’s not a question of right and wrong,” Sam said, leaning over and putting his elbows on the table. “I’m not saying that there aren’t people out there who would make the world a better place by not being in it—I’m saying that it’s not _our_ job to make that choice.” 

“Then whose job is it?” Jason demanded. “Who gets to make that call? The legal system?” He scoffed. “Half the cops in this city are dirty and we’ve got lunatics running around murdering innocent people left and right. I kill one bad guy and I save several lives.”

“The man makes a good point, Sammy,” Dean said.

“No. Look, every life matters, okay? It’s just… you can’t become a murderer. No matter who the person is, killing them has consequences further than just the immediate effects of their death. What about the people close to them? Criminals have families. Husbands, wives, boyfriends  and girlfriends. Hell, some of ‘em have kids! You’d be taking that person away from them. You’re not just hurting the one bad person you kill.”

Jason made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “Any family they have is better off without them. I’m still saving lives. Some people don’t deserve to live.” 

“And what about the effect it has on _you_?” Sam pressed. “You really telling me that you think it doesn’t taking something from you every time you take a human life?”

“Please,” Jason rolled his eyes.

“That kind of thing leaves scars,” Sam insisted. “It changes you.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of other things change you too,” Jason said, his voice hard. “I’ve been changed from worse things than killing a few bag guys.”

Sam made a face. “You can’t possibly be this cynical without a reason.” 

“It’s not cynicism. It’s realism. I live in a world that’s dark and bloody and unforgiving. You kill or you get killed and I don’t plan on getting killed any time soon. And I sure as hell don’t plan on letting innocent people like Shannon get killed on my watch either.”

Dean found himself nodding along. Jason made more sense than Sam probably wanted to admit, but Dean definitely didn’t have trouble agreeing. Some people were stains on humanity and needed to be taken out. Humans could be monsters too. Dean had seen it more than once and Sam’s moralizing didn’t change the fact that Dean was pretty sure the rest of the world would keep turning just fine without them in it.

“Jay! There you are!” 

Dean sat bolt upright at the sound of that voice, something cold slithering down his spine. _That is not fucking possible._

A dark hair guy suddenly came up behind Jason, clapping him on the shoulder and grinning. And it might have been more than a decade but Dean would recognize those ridiculous blue eyes anywhere. His throat closed up and his knuckles went white around his glass.

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friends?” Dick smiled and it was the _same fucking smile_. What kind of nightmare was this?

Jason was making a pained face and opened his mouth to speak, but Dick cut him off. “I’m Dick,” he said. “Jason’s brother.”

Jason growled something and Sam was smiling politely at him, holding his hand out to Dick. Dick, though, was suddenly very still and quiet. The smile fell from his face and his bright eyes were on Dean. He looked confused and then shocked and then just a little bit terrified and Dean wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that he could still read the other man so well.

Sam dropped his hand and was glancing back and forth between Dick and Dean, shooting Jason a questioning look, but Jason clearly had no idea what was going on either. The weird tension couldn’t have lasted more than ten seconds but it felt like an eternity before Dick finally broke the silence.

“…Dean?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore my vague and hasty action scene. I suck at them and felt that it was alright to gloss over this one seeing as it was not the main focus of the story. I hope that's forgivable.
> 
> The third and (hopefully) final part is on the way!
> 
> Any comments and critiques are welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for this update taking so long. I had some health issues and some unexpected family issues to deal with. All's well now, though, so no worries.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this final piece of this very fun little experiment!

**_“I’m chatty. It’s part of my charm.”  
—_ Dick Grayson, _Under the Red Hood_**

****

* * *

_“You got another call—” Sam started as soon as Dean walked in the door._

_“I don’t care,” Dean waved his brother off, pushing past him and throwing himself into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “I told you. Just tell him I’m not home, alright?” Dean had left school after his disastrous lunch and apparently Dick was “concerned” about him. He had been calling Dean every fifteen minutes since school had let out and Dean was starting to get annoyed._

_Sam sighed. “What’s going on, Dean?” he demanded. “This guy’s called like ten times! Did you make out with his girlfriend or something?”_

_Dean’s face twisted and he shook his head. “Just drop it, Sam, alright? It’s nothing. Just keep telling him I’m out.”_

_Sam squinted. “You’re not gonna do something stupid are you?”_

_Scoffing, Dean just shook his head again. “Don’t worry about, alright?”_

_Sam started to say something else when the phone started ringing again. Dean eyed it with a scowl. Sam huffed at him and practically stomped to the phone, snatching it from the cradle._

_“Look, if you’re still looking for Dean—” He paused, nodded. “Oh. Uh, hi. Yeah, no, he’s right here…” He held the phone out to Dean. “It’s Barbara. She says it’s important. Something about someone called Artemis?”_

_Dean hesitated for a moment and then snatched the phone from his brother, the cord twisting around him as he turned his back._

_“Look, Babs, I really don’t wanna talk right now.”_

_“Well fine. Don’t talk. Listen,” she said. “Dick’s a wreck, alright? I’ve known the guy since he was twelve and I’ve seen him go through boyfriends and girlfriends and I’ve never seen him get this worked up over anyone else before. He cares about you, Dean. And just so we’re clear, Dick never told me about you two, okay? I just put things together. I assumed you two were, you know, out. Or whatever._ _So. Yeah, sorry for fucking that up, but it’s not Dick’s fault, alright? He can’t help that I’m observant and sometimes stick my foot in my mouth.”_

_She finally took a breath and Dean took that as his cue to talk._

_“I’m… not really sure how you expect me to respond to that…”_

_He could practically see the annoyed expression on Barbara’s face. “Dick’s sorry. He wants to talk to you. And Artemis wants you to be at the party tonight. She’ll be pissed if you bail on her over something so stupid.”_

_“…Is he gonna be there?”_

_“Duh,”_

_“I don’t know…”_

_“Dean! Stop, okay? Just man up, dude. Dick wants to talk to you and Artemis wants you there. Plus, you’ll get to meet everyone. So get your ass to the party tonight. Seven o’clock.”_

_Dean sighed. “Babs—”_

_“Don’t ‘Babs’ me, Winchester. Just be there. Wayne Manor. It’s not hard to find. Be there.”_

_Dean scrubbed his hand over his face and closed his eyes. “Alright. Fine. I’ll be there.”_

* * *

Dean was up and out of his seat before he could actually think of a plan. All his brain was telling him was that he needed to get Dick Grayson out of there and fast before this thing blew up in his face. He grabbed the other man by the arm and dragged him out of the bar—Dick put up no resistance, stumbling along at Dean’s rough pace.

Dean was trying very hard not to think about the warmth of the other’s man’s bicep under his fingers. It was a lot better defined than some rich trust fund brat’s muscle should have been in Dean’s humble opinion, but he had other things to worry about.

He finally released Dick once he crowded him into the alley where Shannon had attacked him the previous night.

“What the hell?” he demanded, his voice a low hiss. “Seriously, Grayson, _what the hell are you doing here_?” 

Dick raised a brow and crossed his arms. He still looked a bit shell shocked, but he was recovering a lot better from the surprise than Dean seemed to be.

“It’s Gotham. I _live_ here, Dean,” he said. “Better question would be why are _you_ here and how did you meet my brother?”

“You don’t have a brother!” Dean said, grasping on to that one thing he knew was true. Dick hadn’t talked a whole lot about his family, but Dean knew he’d been an only child when his parents had died. That made siblings an impossibility.

“Adopted brother,” Dick clarified. “Bruce… took Jason in when he was thirteen. And that’s kind if irrelevant at the moment. I haven’t seen you in, what, ten years? And then I walk into a bar and see you hanging out with my little brother? How’d you two even meet?”

Dean frowned. This was not the line of questioning that he had expected. If he ever let himself think about reuniting with Dick, he always assumed the other man would demanded explanations and poke at him with personal questions about why he’d acted like such a scared little girl. Not this weird interrogation about his Not-Brother.

“Mutual interests,” Dean said vaguely. “It was a work thing. Jason was helping me and Sam on a job.” 

Dick blinked, frown deepening. “What kind of ‘work’ thing?” he demanded, his tone dripping with suspicion.

Dean scoffed. “Work. Nothing important. Why’s it matter?” 

“It matters,” Dick said. “What exactly was Jason helping you with? What _work_ , Dean?” 

Dean pressed his lips together and studied Dick. There was something sharp in his eyes, something that Dean didn’t remember being there all those years ago when they were just kids fooling around. He didn’t know how much Dick knew about Jason’s not-entirely-ethical hobby; he certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell his brother. 

“Look, it’s nothing. I met him here last night. He was helping me and Sam with a case. I’m a cop.” 

Dick snorted. “No you’re not.” 

“You don’t know me!” 

“ _I’m_ a cop,” Dick said. “I know cops. You, Dean, are not a cop.”

“I’ve got a badge to prove it,” Dean snapped, ready to reach into his pocket and pull out the detective’s shield he’d used to get into the files for their vampire killings.

“And I’ve got a hundred bucks that says it’s a fake,” Dick said. “You’re not a cop. I can tell when you’re lying.” His voice softened. “I can always tell.”

For a moment, Dean saw white and his fists clenched tight. “Fuck you. That was a decade ago and you don’t know shit about me, Grayson. Never did.”

Dick sighed. “This isn’t about that, Dean. This isn’t about you and me and whatever the hell happened between us when we were teenagers. I’m asking about right now. What kind of work were you doing with Jason?”

“None of your _fucking_ business,”

Now Dick was scowling and Dean felt a bit bad about putting that awful expression on Dick’s usually sunny face.

“I never asked questions, you know. When we were kids. I knew there was something off about your family, but I never pried. I respected your privacy back then. I _know_ that there’s something going on that’s not exactly normal with you, Dean. I respected your privacy back then. But not now. Not when it’s involving one of my brothers. Tell me what you were doing with Jason.”

There was something in Dick’s voice that Dean recognized. A steely sort of anger and protectiveness that he’d heard in his own voice when dealing with anything or anyone that might have been a threat to Sam. Hearing it from Dick was a little weird and it left his head spinning a bit.

He sighed and bit his lip. “Fine. You want the truth? We were hunting vampires.”

Silence hung heavy in the air for a too-long second. Dick blinked once. Twice.

“Vampires.”

Dean nodded seriously. “Vampires.”

“You’re full of shit,”

“Nope,” Dean said, a smirk working its way onto his face. “I’m dead serious. Vampires, right here in Gotham. With the fangs and the bloodlust and the immortality. There was a nest of ‘em right here in Gotham, ripping people’s throats out. Jason stumbled onto one of the more…. Fortunate victims and well… I stumbled onto them.”

Dick’s scowl was slowly turning into a look of complete disbelief.

“Vampires,” he said again, as if that was the only thing currently being processed by his mind.

“Yup,” Dean said. “You know how a second ago you said you knew there was something off about my family? Well that’s it. We hunt monsters.”

Dick’s lips twitched. “Monster hunters.” 

“Yep.” 

“Vampire slayers.” 

“Basically. It’s a little more complicated than that.” 

“Like Buffy. You’re telling me that you are Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” Dick was full out grinning now and Dean scowled at him. 

“Buffy is a whiny child. What me and my brother do is serious work. We’re saving lives.”

Dick raised a brow. “Buffy saved the whole world.”

“Buffy isn’t _real_ , asshat.”

Dick was smiling with teeth and everything and it was making a little part of Dean ache inside. He had—fucking ridiculously—missed the little shit, apparently. All the years of denial were really hard to believe when the guy was standing there looking all smug and perfect and amused. 

“You’re actually serious,” Dick said. “Huh.”

“Of course I’m serious,” Dean snapped.

“Vampires then,” Dick said, apparently mulling that revelation over in his mind. “Well, I guess I’ve heard weirder things, growing up in Gotham. I mean, just look at Killer Croc…” His smiled twitched and his eyes sparkled and Dean felt like a teenager again, all hot and tangled up inside over this fucking stupid pretty boy with impossible blue eyes.

“So, what, like… Jason helped you track them down?” 

“And kill them, yeah.” 

“Huh.” Dick was taking the news of vampires a lot better than Dean had thought he might. “Well, not what I was expecting when you said Jason was helping with a ‘work’ problem, but… definitely better than Jason going on a killing spree or something equally terrible.” 

Dean frowned. “Why would you even assume I’d go on a killing spree with some guy I just met? You haven’t seen me in twelve years.” 

“I know Jason,” Dick said simply. “And I remember you, and your family. And that one glimpse into your apartment where there were katanas and rifles. I assumed your dad was a hitman or something. Working for the Mob, maybe.” 

Dean blinked dumbly at him. “You thought my dad was a hitman and you still da—you still decided to—do the things we did?”

“Date?” Dick raised a brow. “We dated, Dean. We were together. The word boyfriend was used at least twice.” 

Dean grimaced. “Not boyfriends. Two horny teenage boys mutually helping each other out. No romance or feelings or… anything like that. I told you, I’m not— _”_

“Not gay,” Dick cut him off. “I remember. You made that pretty clear before. No love, no feelings, no romance. Because even though you could put my dick in your mouth you were absolutely not a _homo_. But yeah, I still wanted to be with you even though I thought your dad was a criminal. I _liked_ you.” 

Dean’s face twisted up at the scathing tone. He couldn’t even meet Dick’s eyes. His heart felt like it was about to beat right out of his chest again. He felt like he was fifteen, stomach churning with terror and confusion, Dick’s eyes all blue and wet and red. 

“I never meant—Jesus, fuck, Dickie, I’m sorry, alright? I couldn’t—I can’t— _”_ he bit his lip. He had avoided this talk twelve years ago for exactly this reason. Touching and kissing and fondling was one thing. _Feelings_ was a whole other ballpark and Dean did not want to think about what that meant. 

“I liked you too,” he finally managed to whisper.

 

* * *

 

 _Dean felt like an ant standing in front of Wayne Manor. The place was bigger than anywhere else Dean had ever been in his entire life. Luckily there didn’t seem to be_ too _many guests, but the crowd was still larger than Dean was really comfortable with. Not to mention, standing in the front room with all those expensive decorations and paintings had Dean feeling a bit out of place with his scuffed up boots and his dad’s beaten up leather jacket._

 _“Dean! You’re here!” Artemis was the first one to notice him, all smiles. She immediately pulled him into half a hug and dragged him toward the center of the room where her other party guests were gathered. There was Babs, of course, but that was the only person Dean recognized._

_A skinny boy with messy red hair stood a bit too close to Artemis, eyeing Dean critically and next to him was a red haired girl with a bright smile that might’ve rivaled Dick’s. A dark haired boy with steely eyes was on her other side. A quiet, dark skinned boy with a soft smile stood a bit further to one side with another red head who was doing his best impression of a stern, unsmiling statue. And finally there was another girl with huge green eyes and red hair and—Dean was fairly sure he might’ve been imagining it—_ orange _skin._

 _And no sign of Dick anywhere._

_“Everyone’s not here yet,” Artemis said. “We’re still waiting for a few people, but this is mostly everyone. This is Wally, Megan, Conner, Kaldur, Roy and Star.” She pointed to each of the guests in turn._

_Dean’s smile was a bit stiff, but he nodded. “Nice to meet you,” he said._

_“It is wonderful to meet you as well,” Star said excitedly, her eyes sparkling. “We have heard so much about you!”_

_“Uh,” Dean wasn’t sure what to say to that and was thankfully saved when Dick finally showed up, grinning. It wasn’t the usual carefree smile that Dean knew so well, but it was something._

_“Dean! Finally!” He rushed up to the other teen and hesitated, putting a hand on his arm. “Can we, uh… Could we talk for a second before everyone gets here?”_

_Dean tensed. He knew what Dick wanted to talk about. He didn’t want to have that conversation_ ever. _But the look on the other boy’s face was almost heartbreaking. He couldn’t just blow him off. Plus, Babs was giving him a death glare and Dean was pretty sure that she would actually murder him if he tried to avoid talking to Dick._

_He sighed._

_“Yeah, uh… fine.”_

_Dick led him out of the room and down a long, dark hall into what looked like a study. The walls were lined with bookshelves and glowing wall lamps. Dean looked around for a moment, taking it all in before finally turning back to face the other boy._

_Dick cleared his throat and bit his lip, not quite meeting Dean’s eyes. “Look, Dean, about Babs… I’m sorry, really. I swear I didn’t tell her anything. She’s just… she notices things. Her dad’s a cop, so she likes to play detective.” He shrugged. “But I swear, I mean, she’s one of my best friends, but I promised you I wouldn’t tell anyone and I wouldn’t go behind your back like that.”_

_“It’s okay, relax,” Dean said, holding his hands up. “Barbara called me. She’s the one who convinced me to be here.” His jaw twitched. “I know you didn’t tell her.”_

_Dick’s lips twitched toward a smile and something loosened in Dean’s chest. He liked it much better when Dick was smiling._

_“Good. That’s… good.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “So, you, uh… you met everyone?”_

_“Yeah. Well, I mean, Artemis said some others were supposed to be coming, but, yeah. They seem nice. Star seems… very nice.”_

_Dick grinned full-out then. “Yeah, Star takes some getting used to.” He bit his lip again, which made Dean want nothing more to kiss him. He stepped forward to do just that, but Dick suddenly met his eyes and his expression went serious and soft. “So we’re good?”_

_“Yeah,” Dean smiled. “Of course. We’re fine. We’re good.”_

_“Good.” Dick nodded. “Good. I mean, I was worried. I just—Things are gonna be different now and I thought you might not—”_

_“Different?” Dean frowned. “Different how? What do you? Nothing’s gotta change.”_

_Dick’s brows furrowed. “Dean… Babs and Artemis both know we’re together. That changes things. It… it makes this whole thing—” he waved his hands around vaguely “—more… real. Or something.”_

_Swallowing hard, Dean shook his head. His heart was picking up again. Dick Grayson was going to be responsible a heart attack one of these days. “It doesn’t have to. Nothing has to change. So they know, that doesn’t mean anything. That’s two people, not the whole school. Babs and Artemis can keep this quiet if we ask.”_

_Dick sighed. “Dean—I don’t_ want _to ask that. I don’t want things to be the same as they are. I want more. I mean, would it really be so bad if we told other people? More people? I’m not asking that we make some grand announcement to the student body,” he added quickly at the horrified look in Dean’s eyes. “I just want to make this… more official, you know? It’s been over two months. We could… we could start slow.” He gestured to the door. “My friends, here. We could tell them.”_

_Dean’s eyes were nearly bugging out of his head. “Why the hell would you want to just dump this on your friends like that?!”_

_“They’ll be fine with it!” Dick insisted. His face scrunched. “Is this because we’re both guys? Dean, you’re not even my first boyfriend. Hell, Wally and I were together for a while and they_ all _knew. No one shunned us for that. It doesn’t have to be like, out to everyone. Just people we trust. Bruce, my friends, your dad and brother…”_

_Dean’s panic spiked. No. Hell no. There was no way that Sam and John could ever, ever find out about what he’d done with Dick. He couldn’t imagine the disgust and disappointment in his father’s eyes. Sam would never be able to look up to him again. There was absolutely no way he was going to let them know about Dick Grayson._

_“No,” he blurted without even thinking. “Absolutely not. We are not telling anyone. You promised when we started this… whatever the fuck this is. This stays between us, alright? Just you and me.”_

_“And Artemis and Babs now.”_

_Dean’s jaw clenched. “And we’ll ask them not to say anything and keep going like nothing’s different. We’re not telling anyone else. Two people is bad enough.”_

_“Bad enough?” Dick’s smile was entirely gone now and something twisted in Dean’s gut at the expression on his face. “What the hell does that mean, Dean? Are you ashamed of this?” He waved his hands around again. “I know you’re uncomfortable with being in a relationship with another guy, and I’ve tried to be patient and let you deal with that at your own pace, but I can’t keep standing here watching you do everything you can to act like this isn’t even happening, that we’re not together.”_

_Dean couldn’t breathe. It felt like the world was tilting violently and he was pretty sure he was going to throw up._

_“There’s no ‘relationship’,” he said, his voice tight. “There’s nothing for me to be ashamed of. There’s no us. We’re not_ together _. We’re aren’t anything at all.”_

 _Dick scowled. “Then what do you call what we’ve been doing for the last few months, Dean?”_

_“I don’t—I don’t know. Whatever it was, it won’t be happening again. Ever.”_

_Dick started to say something else, but Dean didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to listen to Dick trying to convince him that he was being an asshole, that he needed to listen and open up and admit… anything to himself. He could practically hear the words in his mind anyway and that was bad enough. Dean pushed past him and out of the room, not stopping as he made his way back through the hall and out the large doors at the front of the mansion._

_He ran all the way to the gate before realizing that he had no ride. He’d taken a taxi to get to Wayne Manor and it was a long walk to the nearest payphone. He glanced back at the Manor, all lit up and silent in the darkness. He thought of Dick’s face and his bright blue eyes and the broken expression on his face. He turned around and walked through the gates. He’d walk all night if he had to; there was no way he was going back into that mansion._

* * *

 

_It was late by the time he made back to the apartment. He felt drained and was dreading having to wake up and go to school the next day. Of seeing Dick and Babs and Artemis again. The look on Dick’s face flashed through his mind. Babs and Artemis would know too, would glare at him and blame him for hurting Dick. He couldn’t face them._

_He pushed the door open after deciding to just skip the next day—John would never notice and wouldn’t care anyway—and stopped short as he entered the apartment._

_His father was standing at the table, tossing things into a worn duffle bag._

_“Dad!” Dean hadn’t seen his father in what felt like weeks. John came and went at odd hours, usually only stopping by the apartment to sleep or eat. It was more than what Dean expected from some jobs his father worked, but only just._

_John looked up and smiled. “There you are. Sam said you’d gone out.”_

_“Yeah, I uh… had a thing.”_

_“You’re right on time. Job’s done. We’re heading out.”_

_“Wait, tonight?” Dean blinked, shaking his head. “Now?”_

_“Bobby called. Needs some backup. We’ve got to be there as soon as possible; I know it’s short notice, but we need to leave by morning—_

_“No, it’s fine. Here, let me help…”_

* * *

Dick was quiet for a moment, staring at Dean with hard, piercing eyes. “I knew that,” he finally said. “I’m not _blind_ , Dean; I knew you were pushing me away because you were scared.” 

“Well that makes one of us.”

Dick smiled softly at him and shrugged. “What about now?” he asked. “Still suffering from your own homosexuality?”

“I’m not gay,” Dean frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I happen to love women. Like, a _lot_. Ask Sam. He’s definitely seen the evidence of that.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Fine, not gay. Bi?” 

“I…” Dean huffed and shut his eyes. “I might be able to admit that there is… occasionally… some attraction to certain guys. It’s not… It’s not like an everyday thing or anything.”

“Ever dated another guy?”

“No!” Dean practically choked at the very thought. “I mean. Not since… you, at least.”

Dick smiled at him. “So we did, in fact, date. That’s what we were doing when we were both fifteen and stupid.” 

“I guess… I mean, yeah. Mostly. It just… How can you be so _fine_ about all this? Even back then. It didn’t ever freak you out, man? Liking other guys?” Dean’s voice held an almost desperate quality. It was one thing he’d really needed to know. Dick was always so nonchalant about their… sort-of relationship and Dean had never understood how it couldn’t be eating away at him inside every time they touched each other. 

Dick shrugged. “It was never weird for me. I like women and I like men. It’s never been something that bothers me. It was just part of who I was, who I am.” His smile turned crooked. “The only thing that ever bothered me about you was the fact that I was pretty sure I was dating a criminal.”

Letting his arms fall back to his side, Dean scoffed. “I’m not a criminal. Or, mostly not a criminal. Sometimes we have to bend a few laws to get where we’re going, but that’s… that’s not a big deal.”

“Need I remind you that I’m a cop?” Dick smirked.

“What are you gonna do, arrest me?” Dean demanded, not quite noticing the way his voice shifted tone into something softer and more playful.

“Mm, I would enjoy having you in handcuffs,” Dick said, his eyes glittering in the yellow streetlight.

Dean swallowed hard, that familiar tingling feeling slipping through his veins and settling in his gut. His mind flashed with images of a younger Dick, the bright excitement on his face the first time they’d—properly—kissed. “You’re welcome to try,” Dean said. “But I haven’t met the pair of handcuffs yet that I can’t slip out of.”

“That sounded like a challenge,” Dick said, smirk still playing on his lips.

Dean spread his arms wide, eyeing twinkling. It felt familiar and warm, like those secret moments he’d kept swept away in the back of his mind. The quiet pockets of blissful happiness that only he and Dick Grayson were party to.

“I’m standing right here,” he said. “I think you’re all talk, Grayson. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The words hardly left his mouth before Dick was on him, pushing him back into the hard alley wall and crushing his mouth to his. For a second, Dean considered pushing him away and changing their positions, but Dick’s body was a hard, lean line of heat against him and instead Dean found himself gripping at Dick’s ridiculously defined biceps and opening his mouth to let their tongues tangle together. Lost in the heat of the moment, pressed tight against one another, neither of them heard the footsteps approaching the alley until a young voice spoke loudly, ringing through the alley and causing them to yank apart. 

“Really, Grayson? You go inside to get Todd’s help and instead end up in the alley with your tongue down some random man’s throat?” 

Dean had to blink away the fuzziness before he could properly process what he was seeing. Two boys were standing at the end of the alley, watching them. One who looked a bit younger than Sam, barely twenty, and one who couldn’t possibly have been more than, like, ten, seriously. The ten-year-old appeared to have a permanent scowl etched on his face, his arms folded tightly across his chest. 

They looked similar enough that Dean might’ve thought they were related, but there were subtle differences that said otherwise—little variances in their eye color, the sharp chin on the kid and the lankier build of the older boy. _Dick’s adopted brothers_ , Dean’s hormone clouded brain supplied. 

“Sorry, Dami,” Dick said, his eyes still bright and playful as he eyed the angry child. “Ran into an old friend. Or, rather, Jason did, apparently. We were just catching up.”

“Looks like you were more than friends, Dickie,” the older boy said, eyeing the two of them knowingly. Dean felt his face heat and looked down, wishing for a moment that the pavement would just swallow him whole. Admitting that he might sort-of-a-little-bit like men was one thing. Being caught making out with another guy was so far from Dean’s comfort zone he wasn’t even in the same solar system anymore. 

Dick’s smirk just grew wider. “Well, yeah. Dean, these are my other brothers. Tim and Damian.” He waved toward the two boys. “This is Dean.” 

“As much as I’m sure you’re enjoying this trip down memory lane, we are rather pressed for time,” Damian said. His voice held a strangely adult quality and the accent was weird and too formal. Dean briefly considered the idea that the kid might be a robot.

“Actually, I was just thinking about that,” Dick said. He turned to Dean. “You said you hunt monsters for a living, right? Because we’ve been having this… weird problem lately. At Arkham. Inmates are saying it’s haunted, but…” He shrugged.

Dean frowned. “Ghosts in a place like Arkham would not surprise me.”

“Three inmates and a guard died,” Dick was still eyeing him. “We’ve been trying to figure out how and why… It’s bad enough we were actually coming to ask Jay to lend backup.” 

“Well, Sam and me have plenty of experience with ghosts. Even some with haunted asylums,” Dean said readily. “Jason helped us out on this vamp nest. I’m sure I can talk Sammy into helping with your ghost problem.” 

“Wait, wait,” Tim frowned. “You’re not seriously considering that Arkham’s _haunted_ , Dick? Really?” 

Dick shrugged. “I dunno. Between these weird deaths and Jason’s vampire problem…”

“But… ghosts?”

“Trust me,” Dean said. “Ghosts are definitely real. And an insane asylum is the perfect breeding ground for angry spirits.”

“And why, exactly, should we trust you?” Damian demanded.

“I trust him,” Dick immediately vouched. It made Dean want to smile when he heard that implacable certainty in the other man’s voice. He pushed the feeling down deep, but decided to hold on to it so he could imagine this moment again later.

Damian snorted. “I somehow doubt you’re thinking with the correct head at the moment, Grayson.”

“You really think I’d trust someone just because they’re a totally hot guy? I’m not that shallow, Damian.” Dick folded his arms. “C’mon, even Jason trusted him. He just wrapped something up with him and his brother.”

“Because Todd’s the epitome of perfect judgment,” Damian scoffed.

“I hate to agree, but kid’s got a point. We don’t even know this guy.” Tim glanced over at Dean

“I know him,” Dick said. “I trust him. I’m in charge until Bruce gets back from his trip to China so…” he spread his hands wide.

Tim sighed. “Fine. But I can tell you right now, Bruce will not be happy to hear about this.”

“He’ll live,” Dick said, shrugging. “Come on. Let’s head inside where it’s warmer and talk this over,” he suggested, lifting a brow. Tim sighed heavily and Damian grudgingly nodded.

“When Father hears about this you’re taking the blame for any problems.” His eyes—sharp and piercing like ice—landed on Dean’s and his frown deepened. “…And any casualties that we may incur.” 

“Whatever. Just go inside, Dami.”

The two boys headed inside slowly, Dick and Dean hanging back for a moment. Dean turned to look at Dick with narrow eyes.

“So what’s a cop doing looking into weird deaths with his younger, obviously _not-cop_ siblings?”

Dick’s lips twisted into a bright grin and he slung an arm around Dean’s shoulder as he started leading them inside. “You’re not the only one who had secrets when we were in high school, Dean.”

Dean glanced at him curiously. “ _You_ had secrets?” he asked. What the hell kind of secrets could some pampered trust fund brat have possibly kept hidden from him?

“Big secrets,” Dick nodded. His smile was nearly splitting his face in two and Dean felt a weird surge of… _something_ in his gut. He lifted a brow questioningly and Dick leaned in close, lips just brushing his ear. 

“Ever heard of Nightwing?” he asked.

It took Dean a second to place the name and then he stopped dead, spinning to face the other man. 

“No way.” 

“Yep.” 

“You’re full of shit,” Dean said, but his mind was racing to put together the pieces. The canceled meetings, the missed school days. The weird excuses and the bruises and scars he hadn’t thought much about at the time because _he_ was frequently covered in bruises himself.

The ridiculously defined muscles and strength Dean hadn’t expected. And if memory served, Dick was definitely flexible enough to be some ridiculous, acrobatic vigilante.

Dick just smiled that shit-eating grin of his and Dean blinked dumbly at him for a moment.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am very serious,” Dick assured him, eyes sparkling.

“Holy shit,” Dean blinked at him.

“I can’t tell if you’re happy or horrified,” Dick said, bemused. “You’re still hard to read, Winchester. You’re gonna have to use better words than ‘shit’ to explain your feelings to me right now. It’s actually getting really annoying—”

Dean grabbed him by the back of the head and kissed him to shut him up.

“You talk too much, Grayson,”

Dick grinned into the kiss and deepened it, pulling Dean closer. Dean’s head spun and for a second he felt fifteen again, except a whole lot less uncertain and maybe just a bit more terrified. Mostly though he was very preoccupied with the fact that he was kissing a very hot, very rich ninja vigilante who worked for the fucking _Batman._

Sam was never going to believe this.

 

* * *

**\--fin--**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giving serious consideration to writing a sequel with that Arkham case. ~~I'm making no promises because the plot is very nebulous at the moment, but~~ I would really like to revisit this story-line sometime. It's been fun.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it! Please leave your thoughts and critiques!
> 
>  **EDIT:** The sequel is a definite as of now. I'm not sure exactly how long it's going to take me to get it written and worked up, but I've decided to move forward with it, and include the possibility for future sequels as well. So be on the lookout for more within the next few weeks. I've got one big project to finish up and then I can devote more attention to this.


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